


One Foot In Front Of The Other

by JenNova



Series: Bad Sex [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bad Sex, Dirty Talk, Failwolf - Freeform, Fingering, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 04:45:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/630574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenNova/pseuds/JenNova
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek has two fingers in Stiles' ass and is concentrating so hard that his own hard-on has gone down significantly. Just like Stiles'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Foot In Front Of The Other

**Author's Note:**

> Oh look, it spawned a series. (Two more parts to come. So to speak.)
> 
> And the dirty talk probably isn't that dirty? But it's there. So. Yeah.

Derek has two fingers in Stiles' ass and is concentrating so hard that his own hard-on has gone down significantly. Just like Stiles'. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, while he was down here, and Stiles seemed to want it just as much as Derek wanted to try it. It's just.

He's never done this before.

It's not that he doesn't have experience with guys. He does. He has a lot of experience. That Stiles really doesn't want to know about. But his self-acknowledged massive trust issues meant a) he never went further than blowjobs or handjobs, and he never really let someone _give_ him a blowjob, and b) no-one was ever around long enough to get him to try.

He figured knowing how to finger a girl would be at least a bit more transferable.

He was wrong.

“This isn't working,” Stiles says, his whole body wincing as Derek does something wrong with his fingers.

“I didn't – I don't really -” this is why several therapists over the years have complained about Derek's ability to communicate. He can talk, he can, he just gets flustered like everyone else when he's embarrassed.

“You've never done this before?” Stiles' voice goes up high on the question and he pushes himself up on his elbows to stare at Derek disbelievingly.

“I didn't exactly take my time when I fucked around with guys in bathroom stalls,” Derek over-corrects and snaps. Couple of years ago Stiles would've been offended at the tone – now he just rolls his eyes.

“Off,” Stiles flaps his hands at him. “Out, off and come up here.”

Derek withdraws his fingers with a sigh – if nothing else he had really enjoyed watching them sliding in and out of Stiles, thought about how that tight ring of muscle might feel around his cock one day – and lets Stiles pull him up his body. He settles between Stiles' legs, brackets Stiles' head with his arms, and kisses Stiles when Stiles leans up.

This Derek can do. This they can both do. It's been fun, actually, finding how their experience lines up – Stiles is just as good a kisser as Derek had always thought he would be, that mobile mouth proving intoxicating. With a little bit of coaching after the first disastrous attempt Stiles is getting better at blowing him too.

Stiles says that's awesome. Derek refrains from agreeing because adults shouldn't use that word as freely as Stiles does.

(He thinks it secretly, though, when he's falling asleep and can't keep the smile off his face any longer.)

This kiss is reassurance from Stiles, pre-empting the wave of _not good enough_ that Derek's only just getting strong enough to stamp down when he messes something up, and Derek sighs into his mouth. Stiles' fingers come up into Derek's hair and tilt his head a bit, so Stiles can press into Derek's mouth with his tongue and do that thing he does that makes Derek's brain switch off for a while.

They kiss like that for what seems like forever, until Derek's hips shift against Stiles' and he realises they're both hard again. Derek breaks the kiss to bite gently at Stiles' bottom lip before pulling back and taking in Stiles' lust-blown eyes. He never gets tired of seeing that.

“What do you want to do?” Derek asks, watching Stiles' tongue when it pokes out to slide over his lips.

Derek leans down to kiss Stiles before he can answer, licking at that distracting pink tongue, and Stiles huffs a resigned breath out through his nose. Stiles breaks the kiss by smiling.

“I'm going to teach you how to finger me,” Stiles says, hooking his legs over Derek's and rolling him. Derek goes with the movement because there's no need to resist.

“You want me to watch?” Derek asks, letting his hands rest on Stiles' hips as Stiles moves up to straddle him.

“Hmm,” Stiles looks down at him thoughtfully before leaning over to retrieve the lube from where Derek cast it aside. “Nice thought. Maybe another time.”

“Oh,” Derek says as Stiles moves down between his legs. “You want to?”

“I've wanted to since the first time I saw you bend over,” Stiles says, looking up Derek's body with dark eyes. Derek swallows, feels his cock twitch.

“Okay,” Derek breathes out. He opens his legs wide and Stiles chokes on a sharp breath. There's something in this, in the way he opens so easily for Stiles every time Stiles asks.

Maybe this is what a real relationship is.

“You're unreal,” Stiles says, pressing a kiss to the inside of Derek's thigh. It tickles.

“I'm literally superhuman,” Derek points out as Stiles grabs the pillow they'd used to support his ass and slides it under Derek's instead.

“I'm aware,” Stiles says, smiling crookedly up at Derek. “But thanks for the reminder.”

Derek realises quickly that he wants to be able to see everything Stiles does and he pushes up onto his hands, leaning forward so he can look. Stiles gives him a knowing look and Derek resists the urge to poke his tongue out at him. Stiles has always had this affect on him and Derek had hoped that it would dissipate when they started having sex.

He was wrong about that too.

Stiles slicks a couple of his fingers up and trails them down the underside of Derek's cock. They slide teasingly over his balls, making his hips rise up, and then lower and lower until Stiles' index finger is pressing at Derek's hole.

“What makes you more qualified than me to do this?” Derek asks, watching Stiles' intent face. He has a flash of thought that just because Stiles didn't know how to blow him doesn't mean he hasn't been fucked. It makes his fingers curl tight in the bed sheets.

“Because at least I've done it to myself,” Stiles says, looking up at him. “I'm guessing you haven't done it at all.”

Stiles' free hand spreads across Derek's abdomen, holding him in place, and he circles his finger around and around. It's maddening, the anticipation, and Derek has to force himself to breathe through it. Just as he's about to tell Stiles to hurry the fuck up Stiles slips the finger in, breaching the muscle and sliding in to the second knuckle.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Derek's hips jerk and he was completely unprepared for this feeling. Stiles presses another kiss against Derek's thigh and makes shushing noises.

“It's okay,” Stiles says, moving his finger in and out achingly slowly. “We've got this.”

Stiles' focus is so narrow, zeroed in on Derek's ass, that Derek goes hot all over from it. Soon he's sliding the finger all the way in, knuckles of his other fingers resting against the curve of Derek's ass, and it's good. _Really good._

“I'm going to try another now, okay?” Stiles' eyes slide up to Derek's and Derek's never seen them look so dark. Stiles' mouth is slightly open as he breathes and Derek can see Stiles' hips shifting against the bed.

Knowing this is turning Stiles on, that he's getting off from having a finger up Derek's ass, should be weird and confusing but it's not. It's really, really not.

It's awesome in the truest sense of the world. Derek nods an answer to Stiles' question, afraid of opening his mouth and letting out everything he's thinking. Stiles' curving smile sends a thrill up his spine.

Stiles goes slow, allowing for Derek never having done this before, and Derek closes his eyes as the second finger slowly joins the first. He feels stretched already, his nerve endings on fire, and he can't begin to imagine what it might be like to have Stiles' cock inside him instead.

He wants it though. Just. Not yet. This is – this is -

“Good,” Stiles murmurs, like he pulled the word out of Derek's head. “Yeah, that's it.”

Derek opens his eyes again to see Stiles staring up at him, eyes flicking over Derek's body and registering everything he's doing to him. The urge to move down against Stiles' hand is starting to build in Derek's spine, evidenced in the way his legs are trembling slightly as he holds back.

“You can feel what I'm doing, right?” Stiles asks, eyes still on Derek's as he works his fingers in-and-out, in-and-out. Derek nods, barely. “You were on the right track – the theory is essentially the same but the practice -” Stiles' fingers curl and a sound punches unbidden from Derek's chest “- is different.”

“Maybe you can draw me a diagram,” Derek says, drawing deep breaths through his nose as Stiles' fingers brush past that spot but don't press. His hips twitch again.

“I was always crap at drawing,” Stiles says, pressing in again and this time Derek does drive his hips down to match him. Stiles grins. “This is much more fun.”

He moves onto his knees then, fingers still working steadily on Derek's sanity, and stretches up to kiss Derek, wet and filthy. There's an edge to the kiss that's new and Derek follows it by biting into Stiles' mouth, swallowing up the little noises he makes.

“I think I could make you come just from this,” Stiles whispers against Derek's temple. Derek shivers. “You're so tight and hot and slick, made for my fingers, it's -”

Stiles lets out a moan when the shifting of their bodies bumps his cock against the crease of Derek's thigh. Derek doesn't know where the hell the dirty talk has come from but it's like it's flipped a switch in his brain that's connected directly to his cock. He arches under Stiles, trying to find friction for his cock without moving away from Stiles' fingers, and the noise he makes is desperate.

“Stiles,” he says, frustrated when Stiles pulls away from him. “I need – you've got to -”

“Come on,” Stiles moves back down between Derek's legs, his hand resting close but not close enough to Derek's cock. “Tell me.”

“Touch me,” Derek says, twisting his fingers in the sheets. “Please. I need it.”

Derek doesn't beg. He doesn't. Except Stiles – Stiles has always made Derek act contrary to himself and Derek likes it, loves it, and he needs it, needs someone to push him out of his comfort zone. Stiles smiles and it's fond and wicked all at once before circling Derek's cock with his fingers.

“Yes,” Derek sighs. Stiles' hand moves in time with his thrusting fingers, working up around the head of Derek's cock, and his orgasm is close, closer than he thought it could be just from this.

“Come on,” Stiles says, biting his bottom lip as his focus narrows again. His fingers press insistently at Derek's prostate. “You're close, come on.”

Derek's used to being the one who can sense the differences in someone – used to knowing by instinct how close someone is to coming – and he doesn't know how Stiles does it with his human senses. It scares him a little that Stiles can read him that well. Scares and thrills him.

Derek blinks hazy eyes down at Stiles, at his own hips moving without his input and then down along Stiles back to the curve of Stiles' ass and the way Stiles is rutting into the sheets. It looks like Stiles isn't even aware he's doing it, he's so intent on getting Derek off, and apparently that's all it takes.

“Fuck,” Derek grunts as his orgasm coils tight around the base of his spine before spiralling outwards in waves, his cock spilling all over Stiles' hand and Derek's abdomen. “Fuck, Jesus, _Stiles_.”

Stiles' hand twists around the head of Derek's cock, working him empty, while his fingers still slide evenly in and out of Derek's ass. Derek quivers through aftershocks, a sensation he's never experienced before, until Stiles slows and stops, groaning low and soft. Stiles' hips jerk against the bed, grinding to a halt. There's an extra flood of scent, Stiles' come, and now Derek has no reason to feel embarrassed about a lack of stamina.

“Did you?” Derek asks because he can be kind, he knows it annoys Stiles when Derek just knows things about him because of his senses.

(Well, it annoys and amazes him by turns, depending on his mood. Derek errs on the side of caution.)

“Are you kidding me?” Stiles looks up at him with glazed eyes. He draws his fingers out and ducks his head to press a kiss against Derek's ass. Which is weird but sparks some very interesting thoughts about what else Stiles could do down there with his mouth.

“I haven't come that hard rutting against the bed,” Stiles continues, sliding up to rest over Derek's chest, “since I discovered the wonders of jerking off by hand. Jesus.”

Derek snorts out a laugh and curls his arms around Stiles, one over the small of his back and the other across his shoulder blades. He presses his nose behind Stiles' ear and draws in their scents, mixed and perfect and everything Derek had never realised he wanted.

“I think I understand now,” Derek says, sliding a hand down to trace his fingers over Stiles' hole. Stiles twitches slightly against him. “Think I'll need a lot of practice.”

“Pretty sure I can handle being a test subject,” Stiles says, pushing his hips slightly back as Derek carefully slides a finger into the still loosened hole. “Now you know what you're doing.”

“Good,” Derek says. He brings his other hand up grip Stiles' nape and pull his head back. He meets Stiles' eyes for a moment, revels in that _lust_ wonder look Stiles specialises in, before kissing him again, slow and steady.

He curls the finger in Stiles' ass, roughly as far in as Stiles had been when he hit Derek's prostate, and is rewarded by a little moan escaping Stiles' throat, a twitch of Stiles' hips against his. Derek swallows the noise right out of Stiles' mouth and smiles.


End file.
